Clash of Clash
by redrose1024
Summary: Four friends in the Academy. Two poor. One from the ghetto of Iacon. The other fabulously rich. Warnings: JazzxProwl, SmokescreenxOC, high school stuff, sexual scenes, romance, fluff, murder...
1. Decisions

Decisions

Nova stood in front of her creators. The two mechs sat in grand chair made from Praxus' finest crystals and precious metals. The room that they were in was specifically made for meetings. The long table that was once in the center was now gone. It made the room look even bigger than it already did. The curtains were pulled back on the windows, letting in some afternoon lighting. The natural lighting bounced off of the crystal chandelier and reflected different colors all across the room.

"Nova, my dear." her carrier said in his calm tone. "Have you come up with an answer to our question?"

"I have, carrier." she looked at both of them and continued. "I wish to attend Praxus academy."

Her creators stiffened and looked at each other. Her carrier shot his mate an accusing look. The large gruff mech sat up straight and looked to his daughter.

" _Elite_ Praxus Academy?" he rumbled.

"Praxus Academy." she looked both her creators in the optic and bowed.

Nova took a deep vent and whirled around. The small chains dripping from her shoulder plating swooshed as she strode from the meeting room. The double doors closed behind her as she make her exit.

Her creators urgently looked to each other, unsure what to do about their daughter's decision. The carrier touched his mate's servo. The larger mech covered his dainty servo comfortingly.

"My love," the bulky mech rumbled. "we _did_ promise her anything."

"I know." the carrier vented. "She's already so independent. Did we do something wrong?"

"Do not fret. We must have faith in her. If we don't, she'll never learn to have faith in herself."

"You're right." the carrier turned away and rose to his pedes.

He went to stand in front of the tall windows and looked out across his estate. It was a beautiful piece of property, something born straight out of a dream. There were cyberhorses grazing out in their pastures. Miniature waterfalls were built here and there. Off to the right there was a gazebo where his younger nieces and nephews played. But his favorite was the entrance to the family's underground crystal gardens. Only members of Praxus' finest were allowed down there.

"This will one day be her's. I just want her to be ready." he murmured.

His mate stood behind him and rested his servos on his shoulders. "And she will be."

* * *

Nova held her servos in front of her as she raced across the hallways. The carpet formed small wrinkled under her small pedes as she practically danced to meet her cousins.

She paused in front of the two doors. She vented deeply and motioned for the servants on either side to open them. This room was similar to the meeting room. Instead this one was more comfortable. It wasn't made to impress, rather to provide a place for the upper class to entertain their close friends. Inside the room, sat her seven older cousins, all of which were mechs. They sipped on their warm energon and sat at a small circular table.

"Nova," a white and blue mech stood up and greeted her.

The other mechs muttered their greetings and nodded to her.

"Hurricane," Nova said as a servant pulled a chair out for her. She sat down and thanked the servant. "I've made my decision."

Hurricane, along with her other cousins, looked up from their energon and to their younger cousin."

"Oh? And what is it?" Hurricane asked.

Nova smiled proudly. "I will be attending Praxus Academy!"

Hurricane put his energon down and picked up a data pad to read the news. " _Elite_ Praxus Academy?"

"Praxus Academy." she clarified.

The other mechs looked between Hurricane and Nova for answers. Hurricane slowly put his data pad down and leaned back in his chair. "What?"

"I've made up my mind, Hurricane." she stated firmly.

The other mechs looked to Hurricane for his rebuttle.

" _That_ was your grand plan that you've been talking about? You want to socialize yourself with _savages?"_

"Not everyone of a lower class is a savage."

Hurricane stood up and rushed to Nova's side. He cupped her face plates and looked into her optics.

"Nova, darling, you can't be serious." he whispered. "You're throwing away your education and the most valuable time of your life."

"I am not." she moved his servos away. "I'm educating myself by socializing with mechs and femmes I wouldn't normally get to."

"There's a reason we don't socialize with them, Nova." Hurricane warned. "They're not like us."

"But maybe that's a good thing."

Hurricane huffed and sat back down. Their other cousins made themselves look like they were busy with something else. Hurricane glanced to them before refocusing on Nova.

"Why would that be a good thing? We're Praxus' elite. Everything we have is here." he argued.

"How do _you_ know?"

"I'm older than you, darling." Hurricane got up and stalked out of the room. His servants obediently followed him and opened the door for him. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

The remaining cousins sat in silence. Nova looked to the door and then back at her cousins. They all shrugged and continued to sip their energon. Nova rested her helm in her servos.

She asked the surrounding servants, "Will someone call Valet, Jovial, and Diesel for me? I'd like to go home now."


	2. Flames

Flames

Nova onlined slowly, her consciousness gradually creeping awake.

The entire estate was silent. She pushed her blankets to the side and leaped out from her berth, creeping towards the door.

Something was wrong.

She didn't know how or why, but she knew.

Standing in front of the door, Nova pressed her servo to the handle, but yanked it back just as soon.

It was burning hot. Inspecting the door further, she saw a tiny crack of light peeking out from under it, just bright enough to shine through.

She shook herself once, formulating explanations for what exactly could be happening on the other side of the door. If she was wrong, nothing would be amiss and the house would be exactly the way she had left it. If she was right…

She silently hoped that she wasn't.

However, nothing could have prepared the femme for what lay just beyond the entrance, and she fell to her knees in horror.

Her entire house was on fire.

The rafters were alight in flame, looking close to collapsing at any second. The crystal chandelier, the one that she had stared at with such awe as a youngling, was now in shards on the ash-stained ground. The stairs, once a perfect symbol of their wealth and social standing, stood creaking and withered in their place in the foyer.

Suddenly, a scream pierced through the smoke-ridden air, yanking Nova out of her temporary haze. She sprung back up to her pedes and raced to the source of the noise, panic crawling up her throat with each passing moment. It sounded like her carrier's voice.

"Carrier!" she called, voice desperate and strained.

She finally made it to their berthroom, chest heaving with the influence of the smoke. When she yanked on the door it didn't budge, and Nova mentally cursed.

Continuing to pull, the door finally gave way, puffing a cloud of smoke into the hall as it did.

Her eyes widened at the sight of her creators' room, shock coursing through her veins like the fire currently rampaging through her home.

Her sire, tall and muscular, strong in every sense of the word, held his trembling mate in his arms. A large gash ran through his chassis plating, the signature blue shine of energon recognizable anywhere.

"Sire! Carrier!" she cried.

Her sire turned slowly turned, his optics wide as he stared at his daughter. There were so many emotions welling in those depths, and the force of them hit her straight in the spark.

Sadness, she realized with a start. And guilt. Almost as if he was going to-

NO!

The building began to creak, growing louder by the second, and her sire looked up slowly just as it all came crashing down.

A noise started echoing through the room, and with a start Nova realized that it was her. Screaming.

Sobs wrenched themselves out of her chassis as she fought her way towards her creators, or whatever was left of them. She didn't make it very far, as she felt a servo grasp her doorwings and yank her away from the all-devouring monster that had already taken the two mechs closest to her.

"Diesel, Nova, we must go!" a feminine voice shouted from somewhere behind her.

Nova looked up to see that her protector, Diesel, had in fact been the one who restrained her. The large, dark blue mech practically dragged her out of the room.

Valet, who had been her made for her entire life, took Nova's servo and urged her to follow them.

Jovial, an elderly mech who also happened to be their butler, raced along side them.

They made it outside just as the entrance collapsed, spewing embers across the front of the estate, destroying the statues that once stood proudly.

Emergency services were already on the grounds, and her aunts and uncles had all arrived on the scene. Her servants brought her to the outstretched arms of her family, their soothing words and whispers of comfort echoing through the air, but for Nova, all she could hear was the CRASH! that had sounded, over and over again, as her creators died.

* * *

"Nova," her aunt said gently.

Nova looked up from the servos resting in her lap.

She and a few of her family members were currently sitting at a table in the grove.

She herself had suffered a few minor burns from the fire, but nothing that would scar permanently, all of which were healing quite well. Her other family, aunts, uncles, cousins, had built her and her servants a temporary house while she herself decided what she wanted to do, where she wanted to live.

One of her aunts, Gleam, had begged her to live with her own family, which Nova had briefly considered.

However, that was before she remembered that this particular aunt happened to have carried a certain Hurricane, with whom she certainly did not want to live with for the rest of her adolescence.

"Have you reviewed your grandsire's offer?" she asked.

Nova nodded.

"Have you come to a decision?"

She nodded again. "I'll accept it."

Her aunt nodded and vented. "You have inherited your creators fortune, Nova." she began. "Have you decided what you want to do with it?"

Nova met her optics soundly, even as her mind was anything but. "I want my estate back." she continued, even as the silence stretched on. "I'd like to rebuild my mansion with my wealth."

Her aunts and uncles exchanged a few heavy, knowing, entirely adult glances.

"Well, I think it's a good idea." one of them said evenly.

The others all agreed, pleased that the young femme was acting responsibly in light of the situation.

What they didn't know was that Nova was not simply building a house. She was building an empire.

* * *

Her servant stood behind her as she slowly sipped her morning energon. Their temporary house, of which she was currently dining in, had been assembled by a group of servants from her uncles and aunts, and it was perhaps the smallest building Nova had ever lived in.

Nothing in it was expensive or grand, hardly exuberant of her family wealth, but at this point, she couldn't care less.

"Valet," she beckoned, waving one manicured servo as she did so.

"Yes, Nova." Valet was at her side in an instant.

Nova put her cube of energon down. "I've been thinking." she paused. "Many of my creators' servants offlined in the fire, yes?"

Valet stiffened, obviously having considered some of the dead friends. "Indeed. All except Jovial."

Nova made a noncommittal sound as her optics narrowed in thought. "I think I may need some more company once the new mansion is finished." Nova said. "But-" she continued, ceasing whatever Valet was about to say. "I want them to be… able. I don't want ordinary servants, I want experts. Like you," she finished matter-of-factly.

Valet's optic ridges furrowed. "Like me? Exactly what skills are you referring to, miss?"

"Strong," Nova began. "Strong enough to protect me, and my assets. And certainly with enough wit to survive with me." she briefly paused, a wry smile upon her lip components in reference to her personal character and occupation. "We are in need of a stylist… and a gardener."

"I assume by 'strong' you want someone with experience in self defense."

Nova nodded.

"We could always approach someone in the military." Nova put up her servo to stop her before she could go on.

"No, the military training is far too predictable. If we were to have a raid or something similar, the intruders would be expecting their generic fighting style. I need someone tough." she picked up a data pad and handed it to Valet. "Unique. I'm thinking someone who's actually been out in the world, and experienced what it has to offer. They're tough, cunning, and witty."

Making eye contact with the maroon femme, Nova spoke her next words carefully.

"Know that I am not against hiring someone who was, or is, a criminal."

She had already carefully calculated this, and while she understood that Valet ultimately cared for her well being, the white femme needed someone experienced, their past be damned. No matter what she or her other staff said, Nova would remain firm with her decision.

As it was, the media was already clawing at her family for details on the accident and what would happen to the youngest of their family. The influence of Praxus' richest line had spread throughout Cybertron like wildfire, and everyone was on the edge of their seats for any news on the newly named young heir.

That was why, even considering the circumstances, she so desperately wanted to make a good impression. For the first time in her life, she was a separate entity. Her creators were no longer looming over her, their own shadows taking over whatever one she herself cast. Now though… she had her chance. That didn't mean that she wanted it, however. Not like this. Despite how much she wished for time to rewind, it wouldn't. Her creators would remain offlined, taking whatever parcels of childhood innocence that Nova still possessed with them, and she would be left on her own in a world made up completely of adults. She had to prove herself, so that her future, scarred as it was, would remain strong. As it stood, she had already spoken with her grandsire and had several business deals waiting to be made, their counterparts eager to make a pact with the young heiress.

But, before she could do any of that, she had to get her slag together. That meant mourning, however much she wanted to, would have to come later. For now… she was going to focus on making everyone, whether they wanted to or not, remember the day that she, Nova, changed Cybertron forever.

* * *

Upon arriving in Crystal City, she had sent Diesel to go scope out some of the street dwellers and contact her if he found anything promising. As it was, he and many of her other remaining staff possessed several contacts that would indeed prove useful in her search.

Nova stepped out of her transporter. She had to travel in disguise in order to not attract too much unwanted attention.

Jovial took her servo and led her to the sidewalk. Valet led them both to the meeting sight.

Nova had never seen a city so dirty. The city was called Crystal City. It was right next to Praxus. How could they let everything go to Pit like this?

They arrived at a dark alley. Nova was a bit reluctant to go in. Jovial and Valet reassured her and took her inside. Valet sent a comm. to Diesel, notifying him that they had arrived. Out of the darkness came Diesel with two small beings following behind him.

He had recruited two minibots by the looks of it. They also appeared to be youngling femmes. One was green the other was blue.

"Bijou and Winsome." Diesel said.

Nova smiled and thanked Diesel. She knelt down to their height and made optic contact with them both. They stiffened and shied away from her.

"There is no need to be afraid." Nova soothed.

By their behavior they seemed to be twins or close siblings.

"I have an opening for the two of you." Nova began. "I need someone to maintain the crystals on my estate. Do you know anything about crystals?"

They nodded. "W-we've worked in the gardens before." the blue one said.

"We painted fences." the green one added.

"So you know a little bit about them?"

They nodded again. "Diesel told us about you and what kind of work we'll be doing." the blue one said.

"Will you pay us?" the green one blurted.

Nova chuckled, "I'll pay you and house you." they gasped. "I'll give you a home, and a set of new armor, you'll be given all the energon you need. How does that sound?"

"Very good!" they both cried.

* * *

Nova then sent Valet to scout out slaves working in the mines. She wanted someone with a good optic to design her armor.

Within a cycle, Valet reported back with a possible candidate. She brought him to the estate where he would meet with Nova.

Valet took him to the temporary house Nova was living in. It was the biggest building he'd ever had the privilege of being in. Valet took him through the twists and turns of the house. He couldn't help but feel intimidated. The house itself was a piece of art. He'd been told that this was the Madame's temporary living. If her part-time house looked this good, what did her full-time house look like?

Valet stopped in front of two tall doors. "Madame Nova is behind these doors, are you ready?"

The skinny mech vented deeply and nodded. Valet swung the doors open. At a small circular table sat a beautiful white femme. She gently put her energon down and beckoned him in. The mech scurried over to the seat she motioned to.

"Svelte, was it?" she asked.

"Y-yes, Madame."

"You do know why you're here, yes?"

Svelte furiously nodded.

Nova picked up a data pad. "You've been in captivity for all your life, is that true?"

"It is."

"And you're good with your servos?"

"Indeed."

"And you have a good optic?"

"I believe so."

Nova put the data pad down. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

"Y-you want to buy me."

"Primus, no!" Nova cried, startling Svelte. "I want your services. I want to hire you."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

Nova smiled and leaned over the table. She took Svelte's servos in her own and looked into his optics. Svelte was helpless to do nothing but stare back at her.

"I want you to design my wardrobe. Craft me the finest armor you can. I'll bring someone in to teach you. I'll give you all the resources you desire." she took the shackles around his wrists and snapped them in two. "I want to free you, Svelte. I want you to become part of my household and serve me."

Svelte stared at the shackles. He couldn't remember the last time they came off. Coolant tears began to form in the corners of his optics. His lip plates formed a smile as the tears spilled over. He was amazed at how quickly this femme was able to touch his spark. With a few words and one simple motion, he was moved.

"Y-yes!" he cried. "I-I'll be the best servant you'll ever have!"

Nova sat back in her seat. "I look forward to it."


	3. First Day

First Day

Valet had polished Nova's armor thrice already, and Jovial had taken the time to untangle her helm wiring, which to simply brush was an incredibly difficult job. However, this was going to be her first day at the Academy, and Nova would be damned if she looked anything but jaw-dropping. So, pretty much like normal.

Because of the whole… event, Nova had not attended the first cycles of class. The officials and professors alike had all been very sympathetic and allowed her to attend when she felt the time was right, but nevertheless she was shaking - in apprehension or excitement she didn't know, but both would accurately describe her feelings towards the first days of school.

On the ride there, Nova had been taking it all in. She had never seen Praxus this way, as she was always heavily guarded, never travelling to a place with the slightest inkling of anything but high class. Now, it was as if the shackles holding her down had been released, and she was finally free. It was oddly satisfying.

The entrance to the academy was grand, reminding her of her own estate's entrance. She walked underneath the arch, data pads pressing against her chassis, eyes roaming. The building was huge in almost every aspect, student body included. She could do nothing but follow the flood of students, and hope that she didn't wash away.

Throughout the day, she went through almost all her classes without incident. It was a relatively uneventful cycle, as up until this point her education had been of the utmost quality (putting her years ahead of these students), but Nova didn't mind. It wasn't until the very last period that something finally happened.

She walked through the door of her last class, which happened to be art. Though not a naturally talented artist like some, Nova had certainly had her share of the subject, and was more than efficient. More efficient, certainly, then the mech currently dipping his servos in paint and moving them across several different canvases, not caring the least about the mess accumulating on the floor.

Her eyebrow ticked.

What the heck do they even do in this classroo-

At the sight of the second mech, her expression had gone from confused to downright flummoxed.

Was he sitting in the sink, playing a kazoo!?

Nova paused and stared at the two mechs, not caring for once that staring was in fact very rude, as every single one of her classes in etiquette had taught her. This, however… at the moment, she had no words.

They were, undoubtedly, in a world of their own.

The professor started class, briefly speaking about their topic (portraits) and then leaving them to work on their own.

The two previously mentioned mechs started on their own project, oblivious to the staring femme from across the room.

The tall blue mech, who, when she actually looked, happened to be incredibly handsome, started drawing various objects with little to no effort.

He's an artist, she thought. Then, immediately after, A hot artist.

"Yo, Jazz!" he called to the other, kazoo playing mech. He held up his drawings for inspection. "Ya think it's worth five thousand?" he joked.

"Ah'd pay at least seven!" the black and white one yelled back, though they were really only ten feet away.

Nova could only watch in bewilderment at the two mechs.

How on Cybertron could two people be so stupid? It was almost as if they didn't possess any common sense.

Towards the end of the class, the mech that had been called 'Jazz' was speaking quietly, yet animatedly, in his friend's ear, almost as if he was… hyping up the blue mech? She suppressed a groan. What were these idiots going to do now?

He appeared to be trying to throw something away in the trash bin, which was located by the door, a good 25 feet away. Before he did, however, the blue mech stopped and pointed one, almost accusing, digit at Nova.

"If I make this, will you go out with me?"

Nova froze, and slowly brought her servo to face the unexpected proposition. Did they know she had been watching them all class? Perhaps they were speaking to a different femme? No, the blue mech was looking right at her.

"Pass." she said, words slow and snappish.

The blue mech, threw the object in question, which collided into the trashcan with a resounding CLANG!  
Nice shot, she thought.

Completely unknowing of her silent praise, the mech continued with his work, seemingly unaffected by her flat-out refusal. However, Nova had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't give up. Oh no, not by a long shot.

* * *

To say Hurricane was angry would be an understatement. He was simply livid.

It had been a long-time tradition for members of their family to attend Elite Praxus Academy, she and her cousins being the eighth generation to continue to do so. However, her creators had given her the opportunity to do something different, something new.

Everyone expected her to want to go somewhere prestigious, like Elite Iacon, but no. She just had to go to a standardized Academy filled with uncultured twats.

Every twenty cycles, their family would assemble at their grandsire's estate for a cube of energon together. Some looked forward to it and cherished their time together. Others hated to be forced to go to such events. Nova was a bit impartial to them. She enjoyed seeing her family, yes. But more often than not, they would end in a catastrophe.

Be it experience or mere intuition, Nova had a feeling this time would be no different.

"Nova," Hurricane's carrier began. "how did your first cycle at the Academy go?"

Upon being addressed, the white femme straightened her posture and squared her shoulders, knowing that all optics were on her.

"Quite well, thank you." she said, voice polite.

"Have you met anyone yet?"

Nova paused and thought back to the two mechs in her art class. Does a rejection count as meeting someone? "I spoke briefly with two mechs."

Hurricane looked up from his energon, expression dark. Seeing his reaction from the corner of her optic, she continued.

"They were in my art class."

"Oh my, two artists?"

Nova had to suppress the urge to cringe when she remembered what exactly they considered… art. Blue servos covered in paint, dashing across a blank canvass. Strong, muscular biceps that could easily pin her against the wall and-

No. No. She was not having fantasies of an idiot who tried to ask her out by throwing something in a trashcan. But. He still asked her out.

Before her mind could spiral even more into the never-ending abyss of 'does he like me or not', because duh he asked you out of course-, she hastily responded to the question that had been asked.

"Yes, they were both very talented." she racked her brain on what else to say. "One was a musician. Particularly in wind instruments." she lied. "The other was an abstract artist. He pours paint on his canvases and swirls it around to create a marbled effect."

A few of her relatives turned to each other and muttered things like, "Very creative." and "A whole new perspective."

However, seeing his expression, Nova knew that Hurricane had caught her bluff. Certainly not the specifics, but… he knew.

For the sake of her well-being and his, they said nothing.


	4. Idiocy

Idiocy

Nova stared in astonishment. Her optics gaped wide as she watched the unmistakable sight of Jazz and Smokescreen set a calculator on fire.

They sat in the very back of the classroom like they did in all the classes they had together. Jazz held the lighter while Smokescreen held the calculator with a pair of tongs. The calculator's plastic melted and peeled as its wiring sparked.

They claimed it was apart of their 'science experiment'. There was only one problem with that statement,

This was calculus.

Nova couldn't comprehend their logic. It was redundant. Their entire existence was an oxymoron. Just the other cycle, she watched them have a back flipping contest on a roof.

But the worst part, by far, was the fact that no one had ever bat and optic. If anything, they seemed to enjoy it. Every time they cracked a joke, a symphony of laughter would erupt from their peers. But the mechs didn't seem to care about the approval of others. That part, Nova had to admire.

The ability to stray away from everyone else and be independant was something Nova had struggled to gain as she grew older. She was always caught up in making her creators proud. Now that they were gone, she had no one to please but herself.

After her classes, Nova went to wait outside for Diesel to escort her back to her estate. She sat on a bench with a data pad in servo. A quarter joor passed and it started to rain lightly. Another quarter joor passed, Diesel still didn't show. She was beginning to worry.

She couldn't drive home alone. She had no experience driving on public roads, it would be far too dangerous. She was stuck.

To pass the time, she observed the streets of Praxus. The sky was dark. Lights reflected off the slick roads. Skyscrapers shined with tiny lights in the windows. Overall, Praxus was an immaculate city. Everything was shiny and new.

Soon, her mind wandered elsewhere. The sound of the rain on the canopy she was under was calming. The low glow of the traffic lights were soothing. She found herself in a serene melancholy state.

* * *

Her internal chronometer told her it had been a few joors since she was online. It was well into the lunar cycle by now.

She also noticed that she wasn't on the bench anymore. Instead she was lying somewhere warm and comfortable. There were blankets and pillows everywhere, so many she could lie on her back without stressing her wings.

Diesel probably came to get her. He must've found her recharging and taken her home without waking her.

How polite he is, Nova thought. I'll have to thank him.

Nova sat up. She suddenly became aware at the recharging mech next to her. Fear over swept her as she instinctively brought a servo over her helm, ready to strike him if the need arose. But she saw her armor still on her wrists. They were both still fully draped in their armor. Upon further inspection she found it was the blue mech from math class.

The entire room was dark, she could only look at him. And look she did.

Nova began to notice why all the mechs and femmes tried to flirt with him, he was handsome. She hadn't been able to really look at him until now. He was almost always doing something stupid with his partner in crime. She was so used to looking at his antics rather than the mech himself.

It seemed like he was trying to respect her boundaries, even in recharge. He was lying well away from her, almost squished against the wall. There was a barrier of pillows between the two of them too.

It was that small act of dignity that made her change her mind about him.

She silently laid back down with her servos folded neatly over her abdomen. Her wings laid flatly beneath her. The blanket laid over her torso and warmed her frame. Without any more question, she activated her protocols and went into recharge.

* * *

The next morning, Nova woke up to the sound of two deep voice a talking.

"Ah'm jus' sayin', rock really shouldn't beat scissors."

"Then what the frag's gonna beat scissors if rock can't do it?"

"A bullet."

Who in the name of Primus has conversations as meaningless as this? She mentally asked herself.

"'ey Smokey, Ah 'ink she awake."

Oh no.

Nova heard shuffling. She willed her optics to online. Looming over her were two mechs, one blue and red, the other black and white.

"We didn't kidnap you." Smokescreen immediately defended.

"Practically saved you." Jazz playfully muttered with a stupid grin on his face plates.

Smokescreen's optics went wide with glee as he joked with his friend. "We saved your life."

Nova looked in between them both. She couldn't utter a single word, she was still so discombobulated.

Smokescreen whipped around and grabbed something. "We brought your data pads."

Nova sat up and gently took the data pads from him.

"Do yer creators know yer here?" Jazz asked.

"My creators?" she said. "I don't believe they do."

"We can take you back to your house." Smokescreen offered. "Where do you live?"

Frag! Nova had a brief moment of panic before calming down. "I can call my caretakers to take me home."

"Caretakers?"

"Damn femme, Ah thought ya were rich."

"I..." she trailed off. "should be going...thank you both."

"Whoa, whoa." Smokescreen brought his servos up. "We brought you here specifically so you wouldn't be alone. Praxus is typically pretty safe, but you never know what's in the dark alleyways." he paused. "You're Praxian, but you're new here, yes?"

Nova was once again exasperated at him. She vented softly and shook her helm ever so slightly. "How do you know?"

Smokescreen smiled. "I'm studying behavior and psychology."

Nova mentally cataloged this. This mech was smart, despite what she originally thought. He had an educated guess on Nova's past based on pure psychology. This mech would vital to her if she ever wanted to succeed in the Academy.

"We can take ya home if ya'd like." Jazz offered a sheepish smile.

Nova knew needed more information on these two. "You can walk me back to the bench." she smiled. "I'd like to get to know more about you both."

The two mechs smiled and grabbed both of her arms and dragged her off the berth. She yelped as they towed her out the door and ran down the corridor.

"Where do you live?" Jazz joyfully asked, still running.

"I-I..." Nova tried to remember. "My caretakers know. I'll just summon them to take me home."

Nova sent Jovial a comm.

"They'll be here soon." Nova said.

The two mechs and femme waited by the bench. Nova sat on the bench with perfect posture. Her wings were high and stiff against her back, legs and pedes pressed together. The two mechs walked back and forth on the brick wall. They appeared to be playing a game that involved lobbing a ball to each other.

A large transporter rolled up to the curb. Smokescreen and Jazz turned their helm to get a glimpse at it. From the doors flooded out a fleet of mechs and femmes. They all frantically surrounded Nova and bowed before her. Nova smiled in sympathy as they begged pleaded for forgiveness.

"M-madame Nova, we're all so sorry!" the maroon femme held her servos above her helm.

"W-we were sidetracked!" a small green femme cried.

Suddenly a tall bulky mech casted a shadow over them all. The other servants anxiously scurried and made a pathway for him. He collapsed on his knees with a ground trembling thud and caressed Nova's small servo in his own.

"Madame, forgive me." he whispered in his deep voice. "We were working to get your new living space in shape for you. We lost track of time. When we came to retrieve you, you were gone. We beg for your forgiveness and ask of you to show us the mercy we do not deserve. We are not worthy to be in your presence."

Smokescreen and Jazz could only stare at what was happening. They shot each other confused glances and shrugged.

"Of course I forgive you." she said calmly and paused. "You said my manor is ready. Shall we go see it?"

Her servants hopped to their pedes and led her into the transporter. As Nova was getting in, she looked to the two mechs behind her.

She called out to them. "Shall I see you both tomorrow?"

The mechs straightened up and nodded vigorously. Nova stepped all the way into the transporter just as it was sweeping her away.


	5. You're

You're...

Nova's servants hadn't left her side. She assured them that she forgave them, but no matter what she did, they didn't believe her.

Svelte was on his servos and knees in front of her. He was trembling, armor clattering against his protoform. "Madame, please. You cannot forgive us so _easily_. Please, never forgive us." he frantically begged.

Nova knelt down to his level and wiped his tears with her thumb. "But I already have."

Svelte felt the tears pour down his face plates even faster now. He laughed coldly and muttered two simple words,

"You're wonderful."

Nova looked away. Her lip plates pressed into a fine line. Svelte tipped his helm upwards at her reaction, not understanding what was wrong with what he said.

"I'm really not, Svelte"

She had settled into her new mansion quite nicely. It was an exact replica of her old estate, except without all the furniture. This time, she wanted to pick out all the furniture herself. The only piece of furniture in the house right now was a berth and a wardrobe, both of which were small and bland.

Everything echoed. There was nothing for the sound to bounce off of. The walls were bare. The floors had nothing on them. There was nothing.

The mansion had intricate designs painted on the walls. Grand pillars came shooting up from the marble floor and connected to the ceiling. Spiraling stair cases twirled from the catwalks. The tall windows lit everything up.

All in all, it was boring.

Nova wanted to decorate everything, but she didn't know where to start. She wanted to have energon with her cousins, but found nowhere suitable to entertain. Her aunts had tried to take control of the interior design, but Nova insisted that she had everything under control.

"Madame," Jovial said. "I've ordered some magazines for you to look through."

Nova took the data pad from him and smiled. It was a magazine on furniture and interior design.

"Thank you, Jovial."

She sipped her energon outside and read the data pad, sitting on the grand steps that led to the doorway. It was still cold out, steam leaking out of the cube. But Nova, like most Praxians, could take the cold. Praxus had cold climate. Thus, making the natives have denser frames.

"Madame Nova, perhaps it would be best to make a decision soon." Valet said quietly from behind her.

"Oh?"

Valet stepped forward and smiled kindly. "You're grandsire has been wanting to visit you for quite sometime now. I'm sure he'd like somewhere to sit."

Nova turned back around. "Yes, I suppose you're right." she took a swig of her energon. "I'll just order a table and some chairs. I'm not in it to impress him. Not yet, at least."

"Shall I start placing orders, Madame?" Valet asked, suddenly joyful.

"Only on the table and chair set I liked."

"Of course." Valet bowed. She stopped in the doorway and tapped her digits on the frame. "You always make the right decisions, Madame." Valet smiled, almost sadly. A small chuckle escaped from her lip plates. "You're brilliant."

* * *

"Yeeee, my femme!"

Nova stiffened as she felt a servo hastily placed on the back of her chair. Two mechs plopped down in the seats next to hers. One propped their pedes up on the table. The other sat backwards on their chair, leaning over the back of it.

"Whatcha doin' after class?" Jazz asked.

"There's a new bar that just opened. Wanna come?" Smokescreen offered.

Nova looked to them both and smiled innocently. "I really shouldn't. I already have my appointments set up for tonight."

"Ah c'mon!" Smokescreen nudged her arm. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I cannot cancel my engagements."

Jazz slapped a servo to his helm and laughed. "Ya sound like Prowler."

Nova looked at him in confusion.

"My brother." Smokescreen clarified.

Nova nodded.

"Maybe we could go to da tracks one of dese days." Jazz suggested.

"The tracks?"

"Ya know," Jazz said. "the _tracks_."

Nova just smiled and nodded.

Smokescreen leaned next to her audio. "He's asking if you wanna go to the races."

"The races?" Nova put a servo on her chassis. "You mean the illegal ones?"

Jazz chuckled and leaned against the desk. "When dere are no enforcers 'round, anything's legal!"

Nova's optics went wide. "He's from Iacon." Smokescreen explained.

Nova thanked Smokescreen for the explanation. The two mechs continued on with a conversation that Nova took little part in.

The Professor came into class and started his lecture. Smokescreen and Jazz sat in the back of the class and whispered the entire time. Nova sat towards the middle and silently listened to the lecture. About half way in, a voice came through the intercom.

" **All students engaging in sports, please report to the main office for an early release. Thank you."**

Smokescreen and Jazz sprung up from their seats and hooting to each other. They collected their things and ran out the door.

Nova could only stare in wonder at the two.

* * *

The light poured in through the tall windows. It illuminated the two that sat at the circular table. It shined through their cubes of energon and made blue designs of light on their servos.

"How have you been, Nova?" the elderly mech asked.

"I am well." she responded.

He sipped his energon. "Have you thought about my offer?"

"I have." The old mech waited patiently for her answer. Nova inhaled and sat up straighter to make her seem bigger and more intimidating than she already than she already was. She put her cube down and mentally prepared her speech. "I'd like to make a counter offer."

"Oh?"

"I don't want to take a stake in your investments. I want you to take a stake in mine." Nova's grandsire put his cube down. "Our family is successful in every industry there is, yes?" he nodded. "Except for the beauty industry."

"You want to invest in _cosmetics_?" he smiled.

"I do." she said. "There are those whose entire fortunes have come from this industry."

He put his servo up to silence her. "This industry is unpredictable. Trends change daily. Even _I_ can't keep up."

"Yes, but I have a plan for that." Nova leaned forward and placed her servos in front of her. "What if I gained control over the stylistic trends? I can become head of the public eye. The media is already interested in me. I just need to make a grand appearance. Svelte has already been ma-"

Her grandsire interjected, " Svelte?"

Nova sheepishly smiled. "I've recruited some new servants. Many of my creator's were lost in the fire." He motioned for her to continue. "My servant, Svelte, has already been making a wardrobe."

"And why do you need me in this? You seem to have it all planned out."

Nova looked to her lap in a shameful manner. "I'm new to this business. I need guidance from someone experienced."

Her grandsire leaned forward and took her servos in his. Nova pressed her helm to her chassis and struggled to maintain optic contact. "My dear," he said. "The _last_ thing you need is someone to taint you ideas." Nova finally met his optics. "I'm getting old and I fear that I wouldn't provide you with much help. You'll be better on your own, believe me."

Nova shied away before stealing a glance out the window. She appeared to be contemplating something.

"You always know what to do next, so tell me..." he said. "what will your next move be, my dear?"

Nova laughed coldly. She bit her lip and looked at the floor. Her helm shook slowly from side to side.

"I don't know."


	6. Recognized

Recognized

He was a mech of little words. Nova could tell that about him even now, standing in a noisy corridor in the middle of the Academy. He looked and acted absolutely nothing like Smokescreen.

Smokescreen was tall and bulky, speaking loudly with little to no regard of his words.

Prowl, however, was a mech who calculated; a mech who planned. He almost never made a mistake, and in the rare occasion that he did, it was quickly corrected and dismissed.

During her time at Praxus Academy, Nova had learned that the lower class greeted new people by shaking servos. So, she gave his her servo at a vertical angle and expected him to take it in his own. But instead, he turned it horizontally and pressed his lips against it, lingering ever-so-slowly. However, he didn't bend over while doing so, as was the custom between upper and lower class. To lay a kiss on a femme's servo was something only used when addressing one of higher standing, or just as a general gesture of respect to said femme Prowl remained standing with perfect posture, as if he wanted to be seen as her equal. She was taken aback, but didn't let it show.

To lay a kiss on a femme's servo was something only used among the upper class. This mech had knowledge of her somehow. It was a bit unnerving to Nova. She came here so she wouldn't be treated in such a fashion.

"Prowl." he introduced himself with a single word.

"Nova." she did the same.

The mech released her servo and walked past her, just grazing her shoulder. Smokescreen and Jazz stood by her now. The three of them all watched him leave.

"My brother," Smokescreen vented. "is blunt."

"Ah'd say he's mysterious." Jazz quipped.

* * *

She was in recharge.

Her house was bare, yes. But she didn't mind. It's not like anyone would have the audacity to say anything. Or that's what she thought.

Little did she know, her servants had let two menaces into her home, thinking that they were a pair of Nova's friends. True, they were, but she didn't want them in her home.

Jazz was perched above her berth. Smokescreen was sitting on the end of it. Jazz leaned over and poked her face plates with his digit.

"Nova," he said in a sing song voice. "Nova,"

She stirred slightly. Jazz poked at her a bit more. She unconsciously squeezed her optics before finally onlining them.

Jazz smiled. "Morning."

Nova jerked up into a sitting position, almost hitting Jazz' helm. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. " _How_ did you get here?"

"We drove." Smokescreen said simply.

"Oh Nova!" Valet cried from the doorway. "Aren't they lovely? Did you befriend them?"

Nova regained her composure and quickly changed the topic. "Valet, will you bring me my armor?"

She stood up, the blanket dropping to the floor. The two mechs watched a stickly mech bring in some shiny white armor. He helped her clasp it on and gave it some last minute polishing.

"Now," Nova concluded. "how did you two get here?"

Smokescreen shrugged, still on the berth. "We drove."

"How did you know where I live?"

"Well it's kind of hard to miss."

Nova vented. She rolled her helm on her shoulders and formulated her next words.

"Do you...know who I am?"

"We've known since da start." Jazz answered.

Svelte clasped a cape onto her shoulder plating.

"And you never said anything?" she turned, cape swooshing with the sudden movement.

"Why would we?"

Nova bit the inside of her glossa and looked between the two mechs sitting on her berth. But that wasn't what was odd to her. She'd had many mechs in her berth, especially in the last few decacycles. She found it odd that they knew who she was. Perhaps Prowl knew too and that's why he acted in such a way.

"Well, I don't have much furniture in my mansion right now," she started.

"Yeah, we got that." Smokescreen agreed.

"But I do have one room furbished. Perhaps you'd like to join me for some high grade in there."

They both leaped off the berth and eagerly agreed.

* * *

Hurricane rushed through the hallways. Two smaller servants chased after him and pleaded him to stop. They tried to stop him at the door, but he pulled rank and pushed his way through.

"Sir! You really can't go in there!" one of them shouted.

"Oh? And why not?" Hurricane sneered.

He finally turned the door knob and swung the door open. Hurricane had to stop for a moment to take everything in.

Sitting at the table was two mechs and his cousin. They appeared to be laughing before he came in. Now they were all looking at him with high grade in their servos.

"Hurricane?" Nova said. "Why are you here? Who let you in?"

The twins scurried in and stood behind Hurricane. "Very sorry, Nova! We tried to stop him." the green one apologized.

Hurricane sneered at the two.

"You did, did you?" Nova mused quietly. "Hurricane, why would you ignore my servants in such a way?"

He scoffed and held his doorwings up high, as if to show his dignity. "Ignore? If anything, they ignored _me_!"

Nova stood up elegantly. "Leave." she said.

Hurricane took a step back and let a snarl escape his lips. His optics darted to the two mechs sitting behind her.

"And just who are they?" he demanded to know.

With out looking behind her, she answered. "Two mechs I've befriended, Hurricane."

"From where? I've never seen them before." his optics narrowed.

Hurricane knew nearly everyone in the upper class. He was often Nova's escort at parties because of it. She couldn't be bothered to learn all their names, but for what ever reason, Hurricane could.

"Of course you've never seen them before, they're from the Academy." Nova smiled.

"The Academy! You brought low classes here?" Hurricane stepped past Nova.

" _You_." he pointed a digit at Smokescreen. "I've seen you before, I never forget a face."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." he said. "I only associate myself with the upper class, unlike my cousin here. So you _must_ have ties with the elite class. Where do you come from?"

"Uhm..." he searched around the room for an answer. "My carrier?"

Hurricane huffed and turned to Nova. "Insolence. Pure insolence, Nova. Why must you associate with them."

"Hurricane." she said. "I asked you once, now I ask you again, leave."

* * *

Prowl was standing away from his brother. Smokescreen sat at the table with his servos folded, helm bowed in a shameful manner.

The entire room was dark. The marble reflected what little light there was.

"And you're sure he recognized you, that it wasn't a spat of jealousy?" Prowl asked.

Smokescreen nodded. "I'm sure. It was a close call, too close."

Prowl yanked the curtains open, light flooding into the room. "Did he guess your name?"

"No, he doesn't even know what family I belong to."

Prowl nodded. "Good. What about Jazz and Nova?"

"Nova didn't expect anything. Jazz already knows everything."

Prowl approached his brother and sat down. His doorwings rested comfortable against his back.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

Smokescreen shrugged. "Continue as planned."

"And if this mech gets in the way?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know."


End file.
